


When It All Goes Down The Drain

by LeaOotori



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Bottom Alfred, Denial, F/M, Heats, Human Names Used, Ivan - Freeform, M/M, Multi, Omegaverse, Russia, That's my new favorite tag, Top Arthur, alpha!arthur, craziness, cute stuff, libertea, matthew being macho, omega!alfred, overprotective!Canada, smut may pop up in the future
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-04-14
Updated: 2018-08-20
Packaged: 2018-10-18 21:03:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 17,057
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10625091
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LeaOotori/pseuds/LeaOotori
Summary: Alfred has always been a open book. In fact, he only has two secrets.1. He's an omega.2. He's helplessly in love with a beautiful British nation named Arthur Kirkland.For years, nobody but his brother Matthew has known about these two facts, but when Alfred's feelings get too strong for even him to handle, can he keep the others from finding out?And what happens when heats, jealousy, and drinking get added to the mix?Will Alfred make it out alive?(also posted on fanfiction.net)





	1. Where It All Began

**Author's Note:**

> Hey guys, this is my first Hetalia fanfic! I hope you like it! It's also on fanfiction.net (I have the same username there too) so if you guys have an account there, please check it out! This is omegaverse, by the way, if you haven't noticed, haha, and it contains bottom America and top England. :D I hope you like it, see you at the bottom!

The worst feeling in the world has to be when you’ve worked your butt off for something but it goes straight down the drain. It’s frustrating, annoying, and plainly put-- probably the shittiest feeling on Earth. 

****

It’s even worse when everything was ruined because you made one  _ teensy tiny little  _ mistake: one that you want to turn back time to change. That one  _ teensy tiny little  _ mistake just destroyed everything that you had worked so hard for. It’s absolutely infuriating.

****

Alfred Jones, America himself, was no stranger to mistakes that changed the course of history, but this one, in particular, hadn’t ruined a country-- it had ruined his  _ life. _

****

__ **_~When It All Goes Down the Drain~_ **

****

It had been a December day in the brisk country of China when Alfred got off of the plane, cheeks ruddy and smile wider than the horizon itself. Matthew sidled up beside him as they got off onto the landing pad, eyes flickering about the stark gray landscape with muted interest. 

****

“It’s cold!” America yelled, voice echoing loudly in the absence of anything but large white buildings. He was dressed as usual, though many layers had been added to his normal attire.

****

“Eh,” The Canadian shrugged, looking about as a set of escorts enveloped the brother countries and led them towards the airport. “Canada is colder.” A plane flying overhead overlapped Matthew’s quiet voice, leading to Alfred yelling the likes of ‘I CAN’T HEAR YOU!’ and ‘SPEAK LOUDER!’ at the absolute top of his lungs, scaring all the people in a near perimeter.

****

After finally getting giddy and excited Alfred quiet, the brothers managed to enter the airport with less of a spectacle than what was usual, to shy Matthew’s relief. “Look! Food!” Alfred squealed, not even resting for a moment before finding a new distraction. He started towards the said food, grabbing Matthew’s wrist and trying to drag him towards a Chinese man selling a packaged snack. 

****

“Al!” Matthew was exasperated after dealing with the noisy America for hours in a plane, where he’d be nearly bouncing off the walls, and now, he was cursed to handle him in an open space full of staring people. “Al!” 

****

Alfred could barely hear him, instead dropping the Canadian’s hand and rushing off to buy snacks. Matthew could do nothing but facepalm and go after him, calling his name all the while. “Al!” Matthew yelled again (well, to him, it was yelling… to others, it was more like a talking voice, of course), already out of breath as he caught up to his brother. “We’re gonna be late!”

****

“Such a worrywart, Mattie!” America laughed with his mouth full. “You only live once! Live it up while you can, bro!” Before the American could fill poor Canada’s head with a variety of other phrases that promoted doing possibly stupid things, there came a blessed interruption in the form of a country.

****

“You seem to be enjoying yourselves a bit too much, I would say.” The nearly identical pair looked up simultaneously to be met by the emerald green stare of none other than England himself, accompanied by France, who was busy inspecting his appearance with a pocket mirror. 

****

“The altitude does a number on  _ mes pauvres et beaux cheveux _ ,” Francis cooed at his reflection in what looked like pity. “ _ Pauvre de moi! _ ” 

****

“Oh, shut up,” The Englishman remarked in turn, only a second away from rolling his eyes. 

****

“Make  _ moi, _ ” The Frenchman replied flirtatiously, and Arthur could practically see the lust dripping from his eyes. 

****

“In your dreams, you stupid frog!” Arthur snapped, distancing himself slightly from the fashionable blonde, taking care not to step too close to Alfred either. 

****

While the two Europeans had been bickering, Alfred had been turning various shades of red and purple and pink while Matthew had been trying his best to calm the American down. Why? Well, the answer to that question was obvious to everyone but the people it concerned. Simply put, Alfred Jones had the biggest crush in history. 

****

On Arthur. 

****

The first thing that Matthew had thought when Alfred had confessed (not of his free will, of course) was, ‘Out of all the countries he could have a crush on, he chose England?’. It was quite the valid question: America and England, while being allies, never stopped bickering about tea and coffee and how to spell ‘color’ and such-- not to mention the fact that Alfred and Arthur were both the most oblivious and tsundere people that Matthew had ever met. It didn’t help matters that England was probably the least romantic country ever, while America was no short of a stuttering, blubbering mess around someone that he liked the  _ teensiest  _ bit. 

****

So seeing that Matthew was almost one-hundred percent sure that Alfred was head-over-heels  _ in love  _ with the Englishman, the Canadian was left with a lot of covering-up to due to protect his brother’s super-sized hero complex. “I- I need to go to the bathroom!” Matthew exclaimed, starting to sweat under pressure. 

****

“Would you like me to come with you,  _ ma douce _ ?” Francis practically purred, eyes travelling up the Canadian’s skinny jeans with a questionable expression. 

****

“No, no, I’m fine,” Matthew  _ needed  _ to get Alfred out of the room before he combusted. “Al will come with me, right Al?” The poor American was trying his best to open his mouth and say  _ Yes! Get me out of here!  _ but Arthur’s eyes surveyed him, pinning the hamburger-loving blonde effectively in place as he fought to swallow. “Come on then,” Matthew laughed nervously. “We’ll meet you two at the limo out front.”

****

The British man looked annoyed. “We’re already horribly late. Can you not wait?” 

****

“No, I’m so sorry, Arthur! We’ll be quick! I promise!” Matthew blurted the entire thing in one breath, grabbing his brother’s hand as he took off running towards the restrooms, attracting the attention of confused and annoyed people all around them for the second time in that day as he shoved past luggage and animals and people alike, dragging America with him. 

****

A minute later, he was leaning against the wall of the one-person bathroom, breathing like he’d run a marathon, while Alfred dunked his face in cold water.

****

“Al,” Matthew sighed softly. “I thought you were over the freezing-up-and-stuttering phase.”

****

Alfred gasped as the icy water stung his already-cold face. Wiping his face on his sleeve, he turned around, wearing a somber expression-- one that wasn’t common on the American. His blonde bangs stuck to his face as he wiping down his glasses, fiddling with them in his hands. “I thought I was too,” he said, voice so low it was almost a whisper. Again, out of character, and scaring the Canadian thoroughly. “It’s just… been so  _ long  _ since I saw him, and I wasn’t expecting him and… his eyes are just so…  _ green _ .” 

****

Matthew just felt plain bad now. “I’m so sorry, Al,” He moved to place a hand on his brother’s shoulder. Alfred sighed, before straightening up and smiling so widely that Matt couldn’t help but wonder if it hurt. 

****

“Nothing hurts the hero!” He declared, hands on his hips. “I’m one-hundred percent fine--”

****

There came a sudden slamming at the door, following with a loudly shouted request that seemed to be in Chinese. “We better go,” Matthew realized. “I think we spent a while in here.” America nodded with a grin, taking in a small breath as he pulled open the door to be met by a grumpy looking chinese man who glared as his eyes flickered from Alfred to Matthew, and then to the sign next to the door saying that the bathroom was for ‘single persons’ before shoving past both of them, mumbling curses under his breath. 

****

With no further ado, Alfred and Matthew took off, reaching the front of the airport in record time. After slipping through the revolving doors, they located the limo with limited difficulty (after all, there was a sign with their names on it being held by the chauffeur as he stood in front of the vehicle) and clambered in, both puffing little mini clouds into the nippy air. 

“How does it take so  _ bloody long  _ to take a  _ shit _ ??” Arthur demanded, obviously ticked off. 

****

“Oh,  _ mon amour,  _ they are boys. Let them have their fun,  _ amoureux _ .” Francis’s voice seemed like it was made of honey, convincing and manipulative as he sidled in next to Matthew, trying to inconspicuously slip his arm around the Canadian before he was batted away by the protective American beside him. The french blonde executed his practiced, flawless pout before dropping his rejected arm to his side. 

****

Arthur gave Francis an expression of complete and utter disdain before crossing one leg over another and resorting to looking out the window boredly. 

****

“Well, uh…” Alfred was at a loss for words, but he wanted to talk to Arthur. A lot. “I had the best burger the other day,” he started cluelessly.

****

It was all Matthew could do not to drive his head into the wall.  _ How he can be so clueless?  _

****

“ _ Mon amour, _ ” Francis interjected smoothly. “Why don’t  _ toi  _ tell us about your last  _ femme  _ instead of your last hamburger?” 

****

Arthur’s eyes drifted up at the Frenchman’s words. “That’s obviously your favorite subject,” he remarked lazily, just wanting to say  _ something _ . 

****

“ _ Non,  _ I love  _ les hommes  _ too,  _ cher  _ England.” The blonde ran a hand through his long, golden locks as he licked his lips. “Antonio is  _ trés bien _ .”

****

“I do not need the details on your conquests, especially ones on Antonio.” Arthur seemed reluctant to bring up the topic, despite his usual inclination to simply distance himself from a conversation he didn’t like.

****

“Oh,  _ mais  _ he’s the most delightfully  _ adorable  _ omega!” France cooed, fanning himself. “You should have seen him!  _ Trés  _ cute!”

****

Arthur rolled his eyes. “I got another comic book last week--” Alfred started ‘innocently’, not wanting to participate in this certain conversation, but he was too easily ignored by the European pair as they bickered about whether Spain was cute or not.

****

“Say, maybe we should talk about something else?” Matthew suggested quietly.

****

His words caught Francis’s attention, but he took no notice of them-- just the speaker. “ _ Oui, Mathieu, _ ” his lips quirked up into a evil smile. “Who’s the last person who bedded you?”

****

Matthew, despite his quiet demeanor, was done for today. Completely and utterly done. After dealing with his hyper brother and then his love-struck brother, and now two snarky europeans during a restricted limo ride, he was about ready to yell. Softly. “Bedded  _ me _ ?” Matt retorted, eyes darting to the French Alpha’s blue ones, watching as they reflected utter confusion.

****

“You’re not an omega,  _ Mathieu _ ?” Francis was completely bewildered, eyebrows scrunched up as he shared a surprised look with Arthur.

****

“Are you sure, love?” Arthur asked, suddenly interested in the conversation.

****

“Of course I’m  _ sure _ .” Matthew spat, turning to his brother with an exasperated expression.

****

“He’s a beta, you wanker.” Arthur said to Francis. “It took you so long to notice.” 

****

“I beg your pardon?” The Canadian piped up, trying to ignore his building annoyance. “Who said I was a beta?” 

****

Francis and Arthur turned to Matthew with identical open-mouthed expressions. “You’re an Alpha???” Arthur gasped, eyes darting about Matthew as if simply  _ looking  _ at the Canadian would tell him the words were a lie.

****

“Why does  _ nobody  _ listen to me?” Matthew sighed. “This has to be the hundredth time I’ve said it.” 

****

“Did you know this,  _ Amérique _ ??” Francis exclaimed, holding a hand over his heart dramatically as if this made his entire life a lie. 

****

Alfred shrugged. “Yeah, man.” 

****

“And you didn’t tell  _ moi _ ??” Francis looked like he was about to have a seizure, buckling over as his eyes glazed over, probably contemplating his entire existence. 

****

“Sorry bro,” Alfred sighed, while Arthur tried to revive poor France from his nearing death from shock.

****

**_~When It All Goes Down the Drain~_ **

****

It was almost half an hour before the Europeans had gotten over their revelation about the sexual drive of Canada. 

****

“Well, that was… unexpected, to say the very least.” It was the Englishman who’d finally broken the thick silence that surrounded the group. 

****

“ _ Oui _ .” Francis agreed in a quiet voice, for once not using the quiet to make a move on Matthew.

****

Matthew almost felt sorry for France-- after all, the long-haired blonde had been after for Matthew for quite a while now, but Matthew had figured that the Frenchman knew about the Canadian being an Alpha, contrary to what the other countries through of him. It seemed that Francis had taken the news a lot harder than what Matthew had expected. Guilt had taken root inside the pit of the Canadian’s stomach.  _ I’ll do something later to make him feel better,  _ he resolved.  _ It’ll have to do. _

****

“Sorry, Francis.” Matthew offered, to be met with a weak smile. 

****

“ _ Amérique _ ,” France started instead. “Tell us about your last conquest. It will make  _ moi  _ feel better,  _ peut-être _ ?” 

****

“Um,” Alfred said, at a loss for words. “She was… a really pretty blonde omega.” He said finally, quoting a line from a movie that he had watched the other weekend. “The prettiest baby blues.” The lines were taken from a man in a bar discussing his last one-night stand, and they were out of character for Alfred, he knew, especially since they came out of his mouth sounding almost like a question. 

****

And of course Arthur noticed. “Those words don't sound like you, love.” He said, sounding almost distracted. 

****

Alfred drew a blank, mouth working in the air. “He’s just--” Matthew was cut off by America blurting out a sentence that none of the three countries had seen coming.

****

“Being in love changes everything!” 

****

Matthew’s eyes widened. His brother was  _ not  _ ready to confess! He’d barely even confronted his own feelings towards England, and he was  _ confessing  _ already?? Everyone seemed frozen for a second before Francis’s lips twisted into a creepy smile. 

****

“You fell in  _ amour  _ with her?” He was practically purring, trying to drag the secret out of poor Alfred, who sat there, stunned and frozen. 

****

Matthew realized with an involuntary sigh the European pair had interpreted Alfred’s statement as him being in love with the imaginary blue-eyed blonde he’d slept with-- not Arthur. Thankful for that small grace, he slipped back into the conversation. “I think we’re here,” he said, grabbing his brother’s arm with an awkward smile as the limo rolled to a stop. “Let’s go.” He practically kicked the door open, hitting the poor chauffeur in the process. “Come on, Al.” He shoved the paralyzed American out of the door, smiling broadly at Francis and Arthur. “Bye! See you guys tomorrow, eh?”

****

And with that, the North American brothers were off, getting into the hotel as quickly as possible, attempting to leave the europeans as far behind as humanely feasible, dragging their luggage behind them in a feverish frenzy. 

****

It wasn’t until the twins reached their hotel room that they both let out a collective breath of relief, America collapsing onto his bed. 

****

“That was close,” Matthew sighed, slumping into his chair. 

****

“I was terrified.” The Canadian was once again surprised by Alfred’s behavior. It wasn’t usual for the ‘hero’ to admit an unmanly emotion like fear, after all.

****

“It’s okay,” Matt reassured his twin. “They think you fell in love with that girl. I’m one-hundred percent sure they didn’t realize that you like Arth--”

****

“No, not that.” 

****

Canada looked up at his brother quizzically. “What?”

****

“I was more scared about… about…  _ that _ .” Alfred’s voice had faded in what seemed like shame.

****

“Oh.” Matthew could say nothing more.

****

“Thank god they didn’t find out.” Alfred sat up, dragging a hand down his face and knocking his glasses askew. “Nobody can know that I’m an omega.”


	2. Roomies for a Night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> England ends up rooming with Canada and America for a night. :)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi guys! AO3 is having some problems so I'm really trying to figure stuff out, bear with me!

Despite the slip-up earlier in the afternoon, the North American brothers felt as though everything was relatively stable by the evening. The incidents in the limo and airport had been blotted out and forgotten, leaving time for Alfred and Matthew enjoy themselves until the World Morning the next morning. 

    “What do you want to watch?” Matthew asked his brother lazily, flipping through Chinese channels as he yawned. 

“Is there football?”

Matthew looked at Alfred, looking partially disappointed. “Is a music channel okay?” 

“Yeah, sure, whatever.” The American was turning an odd shade of pink, and there was a layer of sweat on his pale skin as he fanned himself. “Boy, it’s hot in here!”

“Maybe because you’re wearing so many layers,” Matthew pointed out. “Why don't you go change into your pajamas? 

The American took off at his brother’s suggestion, fishing out a pair of pajamas before slipping into the bathroom. Meanwhile, Canada watched the music channel half-heartedly as critics kept on interrupting the music that he couldn't understand either way. 

It was some kind of Classical Chinese music, he was sure, but he couldn't help but feel bored when he found himself not understanding a word or even being able to properly hear it. He was about ready to switch off the TV when Alfred came bounding out of the bathroom, shirtless and torso dripping wet. 

“Al… did you slip into the tub again?” Matt surveyed his brother’s appearance tiredly, wondering what he’d have to scold him for now. 

“Nah bro, not this time,” America laughed, drying off his hair and wiping down his glasses with the hand towel he’d draped around his shoulders before tossing his pajama top onto the bed. Matthew noticed with a raised eyebrow that Alfred was wearing the matching bottoms (a fitting Captain America print). “It's just so freaking warm.” 

The Canadian’s Mom-Friend meter spiked as he sprang off the bed despite his exhaustion, pressing his palm against Al’s forehead and neck and ears in rapid succession. “Are you okay??” He asked. “You’re really hot!”

“I know,” was Alfred’s response, coupled with a lazy wink, which he got smacked for. 

“Do you need medicine? Are you sick?” Matthew was spitting out questions like cannonballs now, checking Alfred for nonexistent symptoms. 

“Dude, I'm fine!” Alfred laughed, shooing his brother away. “I’m bored, let's do something!”

“This isn't time to whine, Al! What if you’re sick??” Matthew began to spurt a list of horrible things that his twin could’ve come down with in his panic before the said twin grabbed his shoulders and looked him in the eye.

“Mattie. I'm fine.” Alfred stressed each worth, drilling it into the Canadian’s head. “If I feel bad, I'll tell you, dude. Don't worry ‘bout it.” The words weren't one-hundred percent true, but it was enough to get the violet-eyed twin to quiet down and sit on his own bed across from his brother. 

“You sure?” Matt sighed, defeated.

“Yeah, man! Ooh, let’s play a game!” Alfred yelled like a kid, sprawling out on the bed as he kicked his legs up in the air like a little girl. “How about… truth or dare?”

Matthew sighed. “You’re really taking on a feminine side today,” he said quietly, but his brother didn't seem to hear. “Eh, I guess…sure, let’s play.” 

“Great! Truth or dare, Mattie?”

“Um… truth, I guess.” Matthew didn't feel like putting in his all at the moment, feeling exhausted in all honesty, but he didn't feel like seeing Alfred disappointed either. After all, the pair didn't get to spend as much time together as they liked, so this was a favorable situation. 

“Aw,” The American poured, placing his chin in his hands as he thought. “You’re no fun!” After mulling over Matt’s truth for a second, he seemed to come to a conclusion. “Say, Mattie, I'm a bit curious since the French Fry asked you-- have you slept with an omega recently?” It wasn't a question that Alfred would bring up with anyone but his twin, and even with him, he asked it in a quiet manner, as if it was a secret to be hidden. 

Which, for quite a few people (not counting a certain Frenchman), it really was. “Uh,” Matthew started nervously, wondering if he really had to tell the truth. “Well, uh… Seychelles and I… we…” 

Matthew could’ve sworn that Alfred’s eyes bulged out of his head. “WHAT??” The American scrambled up, half dragging the covers off the bed. “SEYCHELLES AND YOU??”

“Yeah,” Matt laughed nervously with a shrug, “it wasn't like… serious… but yeah, she’s the only one.”

Alfred sat back on his heels. “And you didn't tell me??” 

“It just never came up,” The Canadian argued defensively. “I'm sorry,” 

“It's cool,” Alfred got off the bed, running his fingers through his still-wet-hair. “You don't have to tell me everything I guess,”

Matthew managed a weak smile and was about to apologize again when there was a thumping on the door. “Who could it be? At this time?” Canada’s eyes sought out the clock.

“Well, let the hero go see, then.” And with that, America was off to heroically open the door. 

\---

A little while earlier…

“Get your bloody hands off of me, you bloody frog!” Poor, drunk Arthur was being chased around by touchy, drunk Francis, and it was quite the usual chase until the Frenchman knocked Arthur into an expensive case, sending it shattering on the floor. Arthur, drunk as he was, automatically started cursing like a pirate, ready to go at Francis and maybe knock some sense into him, but his tipsy senses were no match for France’s as Great Britain found himself twisted among Francis’s sheets as the Frenchman passed out on top of him, muttering something in his mother tongue.

“Francis you bloody bastard-- get off of me, you idiot!” No matter what he said, however, France had slipped off into an uninterruptible sleep, and there was nothing that Arthur could do about it, whether he was drunk or not. After a long, hard workout, the British man was able to slip out from underneath the Frenchman, successfully making it across the room to his own bed. 

It was not five minutes since he closed his eyes when he felt hands on his chest, pushing him down. “What the--” Arthur sat up a mid-scream, to find France drowsily trying to straddle him again. “That’s it,” the green-eyed man declared, batting Francis’s hands away.

They were either going to get kicked out for loud screaming or Arthur was going to get raped. Either way, rooming with Francis was definitely not an option for the Englishman. With limited stumbling, he managed to grab his only suitcase and almost fell out the door, forgetting his keycard inside. 

It was after he left the hotel building that his drunken self realized he had nowhere to go. The cold air was like a slap of reality in his face as he thought of possible places he could stay the night. He didn't have any money on him at the moment, so there was no motel or hotel available for him, and he didn't know anyone here but the other countries. That being said, he didn't know what hotels they were staying in, except… Matthew and Alfred. He looked across the street, where the North American brothers were staying the night, and wondered if it was really worth it. 

After all, it'd be mighty awkward to room with the American whom he’d had a massive crush on for so damn long. The bloody idiot didn't even realize it, to Arthur’s advantage, but whenever the Englishman was around the hamburger-addict, he seemed to become meaner and harsher in order to distance himself from the blue-eyed living-firework. 

Sometimes he felt bad about it, but he knew it was for the good of his own heart. He didn't want to face heartbreak, after all. 

Or Alfred’s taunting.

The realization that Matthew was an Alpha also made him uncomfortable to the point that he wasn't sure whether he could take staying in the twins’ room-- not that an Alpha bothered him (Arthur was an Alpha, after all)-- just the fact that the soft-spoken Canadian happened to be one. Canada. 

Arthur seriously considered sleeping on the bench on the sidewalk, but decided against it for his own health. Fine, he thought. If they’ll have me… I'll go over. No point in not asking. 

And with that, England took off. 

\---

When the brothers’ door finally swung open, England was expecting a sleepy looking Matthew or maybe even Alfred, gorging himself on a poor imitation of a taco. 

He had not expected to see the American blonde standing in the doorway, half dripping wet and looking bloody sexy. For whatever reason, Alfred was shirtless, wearing simply atrocious Captain America pajama bottoms and a hand towel around his neck. His bangs were wet and stuck to his face as a thin sheen of moisture covered his chiseled abs, his face completely opposite to his physique, showing off an innocent and surprised expression that one would expect from a two year old, despite his equally handsome facial features. Arthur was painfully aware of the heat rising up to his face as he tried to swallow, his torrid throat making it more difficult all the while.

“Artie!” The blue-eyed boy seemed surprised as he looked England up and down. “What are you doing here, dude?” 

England was ready to sleep on that bench.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading guys, and please follow, comment, subscribe, whatever they call it on AO3. :) Updates might be weird until the end of May, but I hope you'll stick with me!


	3. Well, Shit

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alfred makes a tiny mistake that may or not result in a potentially disastrous outcome.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys, I'm back from the dead!! So sorry about the inconsistent updates, I've really been trying! The hard period of time is all over, so I'll probably be getting around to actually finishing this now. :) See you at the bottom!

Arthur wasn't aware that he’d been wordlessly staring and ignoring the younger nation’s bewildered question until Matthew sidled up beside Alfred in the doorstep, brows drawn in concern. “Arthur,” Matthew began in a voice that the Englishman strained to hear. “What happened? Why are you here? Are you okay?”

****

Glad for an excuse to look away from the American, Britain swallowed. “I- _ hic _ -I left my room because Francis wouldn't get his  _ bloody-ass,  _ grubby fingers off of me.” 

****

“Oh, come inside,” Matthew sighed, grabbing Arthur’s wrist and pulling him in. “Are you drunk?”

****

“What makes you- _ hic _ \- think  _ that  _ you  _ bloody  _ twat?” Arthur almost dropped his suitcase, swooning slightly to the left before being pulled upright by someone. He somehow doubted that it was so much the effect of the alcohol (he usually never got drunk so easily, and it was especially odd since he was pretty much sober when he had been standing out in the street) and more of the goddamn  _ sexy _ Alfred F. Jones. Where did he  _ get  _ those abs? His diet consisted of heart-attack inducing fat packets! His hobby was playing  _ video games _ ! How on  _ Earth _ \--

****

“ _ Arthur _ !” Matthew said, saying his name as if for the umpteenth time. “Do you wanna stay the night?”

****

England nodded, finally comprehending the statement as his mind whirled in circles, eyes looking at everything but Alfred. Matthew was already dragging him to the bed, however, pushing him in fully clothed before pulling off his shoes. Arthur had a vague sense of his orientation before he felt something settle over him (a cloud? A fur rug? Perhaps a comforter of unicorn hair…) and words turned to mutterings that sounded vaguely like a foreign language. He squinted into the light that was barely-there, eyes finding Alfred like he was magnetic.  _ Heh, if Alfred was a magnet, he would be a positive magnet and I would be the negative one.  _ Arthur thought.  _ Opposites attract! And then we’d go to magnet town and have a bunch of neutrally charged babies and…damn… there’s the frog at our baby shower… what kind of cake would we have on our first… anniv…er...sary…  _

****

The next thing Arthur knew, he was out like a light. 

****

\---

****

“Is he okay?” Alfred asked, looking worried and embarrassed as he rushed to pull on his pajama top. “If I had known that he would  show up--”

****

“Don't worry about it Al,” Matthew reassured. “He’s dead out. He probably won’t remember a thing if it comes down to it.”

****

“Are you sure?” Alfred asked, sounding nervous all of a sudden. 

****

“Yeah, and even if he does, his memory will be blurry as hell.” The Canadian shook his head. “He’s  _ past  _ drunk.”

****

Alfred nodded slowly. “So we’re sleeping on the same bed then?”

****

“I guess so,” Matthew shrugged. “Unless you want me to sleep over there.”

****

“No, it's okay,” America grinned. “Wanna keep playing?”

****

“We have to sleep early,” Matthew replied apologetically, exhausted from the tolling day. “The meeting is really early tomorrow.” 

****

Alfred pouted. “Aw, fine,” he sagged in defeat, and only because England was in the room. Matthew knew full well that if the Englishmen had been absent, the American would have badgered poor Matthew about games for at least a few more hours. 

****

The twins both clambered into bed wordlessly, shutting off the lights and the still-blaring television. “Goodnight,” Matthew said, hugging his pillow close.

****

“Goodnight!” Alfred exclaimed in return, making it sound more like a greeting than a kind-of parting. 

****

And with that, the pair drifted into a long, satisfying sleep. 

****

\---

****

The next morning, sun rays bounced across the sheets of Arthur’s bed like little ballerinas, all happy and twirling and and so  _ goddamn bright _ . He scrunched his eyes closed, hoping that the headache pounding at the backs of his eyes was just a vividly painful dream and not a reality that he’d have to live with for the rest of the day. 

****

_ Kill me _ … he thought, burying his head into a pillow as he moved his leg under the comforter. 

****

His suit pants-wearing leg. 

****

The Englishman sat up with a start, taking in his fully dressed form and he unfamiliar hotel room and the absence of Francis and the very obvious presence of two other blondes on the other bed next to him. 

****

_ Goddamnit Arthur!  _ He ran his fingers through his hair. His head was pounding, as though someone was ramming a hammer into it continuously. With a groan, he takes his fingers over his temples, trying to organize his harried thoughts.  _ How did I end up here?  _

****

The one question brought back a plethora of flashing, incoherent, and seemingly unconnected images, before they all started to slowly fit together.  _ I left the hotel room,  _ he recalled slowly, though he could not remember exactly why.  _ And I suppose I came here… this is really the only place I had to go, so I suppose I was sober enough to think of it?  _ He struggled to get up from the bed, noting that it seemed to be that his suitcase had been pushed up against the wall with the army of bags that looked just like this.  _ I must’ve brought it over here then, so they let me in willingly.  _ Arthur looked over guiltily at the twins on the bed.  _ They’re sleeping like that because of me,  _ he realized with a start. The Englishman suddenly felt intrusive.  _ I'm such a bloody bad person,  _ he grumbled under his breath, all but limping to the fridge, suddenly desperate for a glass of water. 

****

_ I'm screwed.  _

****

**_~When It All Goes Down The Drain~_ **

****

Twenty minutes later, Arthur had had a few pills he carried in his pocket as they helped with his frequent hangover headaches. and had grabbed his bag from the wall. He sat on the bed now, writing a quick note to the brothers as his entire head and jaw continued to throb. 

****

**_Alfred and Matthew,_ **

****

**_I apologize for barging into your hotel room and am sincerely sorry for any trouble or inconvenience I may have caused. I am indebted to you and would like to thank you for taking care of me when I was in such a state._ **

****

**_Thank you,_ **

****

**_Arthur Kirkland_ **

****

The note was awfully formal and detached-- just the way that Arthur liked it. He left the note on the table beside the brothers’ bed, before pulling his suitcase out behind him, leaving before either of the sleeping blonde’s could catch his departure.

****

As Arthur exited the hotel, however, he was slightly upset that he hadn't stayed long enough to be able to see Alfred’s sleeping face close up.

****

_ I bet his face is all flushed and pink _ , the British man mused.  _ Nantucket is probably sticking up like an antenna at this point.  _ This thought was coupled with the sudden urge to see the American’s bed head; a rather entertaining affair.

****

_ No, Arthur! Stop!  _ His inner voice demanded.  _ Don't think about him!  _ It was all the man could do to keep from screaming as he made his way into the elevator of his own hotel.  _ He’s a bad idea.  _ Arthur let his head hit the back wall of the elevator as he tilted it up to stare at the mirrored ceiling.

****

His own emerald eyes reflected back at him, filled with the pain of his headache, the urge to go back and see Alfred, and the awful sensation of longing, regret, and cracking self-control.

****

_ I’m a mess,  _ Britain thought as the elevator came to a stop on his floor.  _ A total mess.  _ He reached his hotel room to remember that he didn't have his key card, so hoping for the best, he knocked on the door tentatively.

****

“ _ Angleterre! _ ” Francis practically yelled, throwing open the door with the ferociousness of a prowling animal and the expression of a drama artist, “You made me worried! You left last night,  _ amor _ !” The Frenchman rambled on and on, shoving Arthur into the room. “No time,  _ ma chérie _ , we’re already  _ trés tard  _ for the meeting! Chop, chop! Wash your face, and we have to leave,  _ mon chou. _ ” 

****

Arthur could barely comprehend what France was saying, and as a result, the largely not-hungover frog had to physically guide him through the actions, all while mumbling about what England would do if he didn't have the French man to guide him. 

****

But as Francis repeated dunked England’s head in water to try to wake him up, Arthur just seemed to start to remember exactly why he had left this room the night before. 

****

**_~When It All Goes Down The Drain~_ **

****

“Al…” the Canadian twins voice cracked through the crisp morning air like a whip. “What time is it?”

****

“Time to get a watch…” the American grumbled back, stuffing his head as deep into the pillow as it would go. 

****

“Al.”

****

“Fine.” Alfred rolled over just enough to be able to squint at the clock with one eye. “It's either six-something or eight-something,” he said finally. “I can't see very much without Texas,”

****

With a groan, Matthew finally got up, turning his eyes to the clock as he put on his own glasses. 

****

A second passed as the violet-eyed brother stared at the clock in utter shock. “ALFRED!” Matthew was up in seconds, kicking up the covers and pulling off socks and his top and searching through his suitcase.

****

“Whaaat?” The hamburger enthusiast replied lazily, not really bothered by his twin’s panic. 

****

“We slept in!” Canada ran into the bathroom, brushing his hair with one hand as he brushing his teeth with the other. But the time he came back, completely dressed with a Chinese breakfast stuffed in his mouth, America hadn't even moved in bed. 

****

“The meeting started five minutes ago,” Matt explained to his brother hurriedly. “It'll take ten minutes at least to get there. Are you coming?”

****

“But I'm so… warm…” Alfred mumbled, turning in bed. “And everything is moving like we’re… underwater… haha…” 

****

The Canadian boy’s eyebrows knit together as he sat down on the bed with a  _ plop _ . “Al, are you okay?”

****

“Yeah…” 

****

Unconvinced, Matthew moved closer and pressed a palm to Alfred’s forehead. He frowned. He wasn't particularly warm, just normal. He cocked his head, about to ask Al another question, when he realized it. “Al… Alfred…” he gasped quietly, surprise lacing his tone. “Did you--”

****

“Did I what?” Alfred turned over, more awake now. And his awareness proved it to Matthew-- er, proved his suspicions to Matthew’s nose.

****

“You didn't take your pills last night, did you?” 

****

Alfred’s mouth fell open as he remembered the heat-prevention pills that he was scheduled to take every day in order to, well, prevent his heats. In the entire spectacle concerning Arthur, Alfred had forgotten.

****

Usually when Al forgot, it wasn't a big deal-- he could stay home and take suppression pills-- but now was not a time to stay home, was it? He had an important role in today’s meeting, and without him, it would not go on. 

****

There was the hope that his heat was a hoax, but that hope was false. He had the symptoms and he had forgotten to take a pill, not to mention the scent that had laced the air that Matthew now caught.  _ It's an omega! _ The scent yelled. 

****

The brothers made eye contact, and at the moment, the same thought was mirrored in both of their minds.

****

_ Shit.  _

****  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey there! I hope you liked it! Please subscribe and comment and leave a kudos, even if just to say that you read it. :) Thanks guys, I love you!!


	4. No Backing Down Now

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alfred can't take a break... he has to go to the meeting, even when Mattew wants to kill him for it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SORRY FOR THE LONG WAIT GUYS!! I know that I've been trying to update every week, but it accidentally sometimes ends up being a month?? oops...
> 
> I'm really trying to work on my writing lately, and I've been in a slump about it. Please keep leaving comments and kudos, it really keeps me going!! I have a few raw chapters written so far (just need to edit them) and hopefully they'll be going up soon! Maybe I can get a few updates done over the summer. :) 
> 
> Meet you at the bottom!

“Alfred!” Matthew mumbled, pacing the room anxiously as he frantically readjusted his glasses continuously, trying desperately to organize his thoughts. “ _ How  _ are you in a heat if you’re on  _ pills _ ?” 

 

The American was quiet for a moment, looking almost apologetic as he swayed. His breathing was labored as he finally forced the words to leave his mouth. “I… might’ve forgotten to take them…” 

 

“Al!” Matthew was beyond frustrated. He checked the clock in his anger, cursing under his breath. “I’m already late! Stay here! Lock the doors and windows-- don’t you  _ dare  _ open a single one! Take some meds and sleep or something, alright? I’ll tell them you’re sick and keep them away. I’ll come back during the lunch break-- and don’t you  _ dare  _ more a muscle until I do!” The Canadian ranted away loudly, an angry expression gracing his face-- one that was quite rare to be see on him. He finally looked to Alfred with an expression of concern. “You’re okay, right?”

 

“I… yeah, man… I’m fine… I’m the hero…” America sounded awfully drunk, squinting at his brother as he attempted to sound awake. 

 

“Right. Do you want me to stay?” Matthew brushed back his hair, ready to set down his files and stay behind if his brother needed him. 

 

“No… I’m fine… go make me proud, Mattie…” and with that, the blue-eyed blonde collapsed back into the bed, mumbling something about the Star Trek remake. 

 

With a quiet sigh, Matthew took off, leaving his brother in a locked room and hoping with all his heart that he would stay put and be fine until the Canadian could escape back.

 

But of course, Alfred had always a little bit of a wild card. 

 

Just a little bit.

 

**_~When It All Goes Down The Drain~_ **

 

Alfred didn't know how long it took for him to get out of bed in one piece. His head seemed to be floating in the clouds, light and fluffy and soft and the clouds were  _ oh-so-pink  _ and-- America felt absolutely delusional. 

 

Not to mention the fact that he desperately wanted to go find the nearest Alpha and do whatever it took to satisfy himself of the animalistic urged that continued to gather in the pit of his stomach. 

 

_ Alpha! Find an Alpha!  _ His mind begged him.  _ An Alpha!  _ Alfred grit his teeth.  _ I will get up,  _ he told himself.  _ I will get dressed and mask my scent and I will go to the meeting and survive.  _ He finally got up with shaking legs, tired from the sudden onslaught of the heat after months and months of indefinite delay as he stayed on the pills. 

 

_ I think all the heats I skipped hit me at once,  _ Alfred realized with an inward groan. He began to pull off his shirt clumsily, trying to make his breathing sound somewhat even instead of panting. 

 

Everything in his body was throbbing with hidden energy, in a way that almost physically  _ hurt.  _ He felt like there were springs coiled up in all his muscles, making them stiff and tingly, all at the same time.  _ Get to the bathroom,  _ he pushed himself.  _ I'm the hero! I'm America! I can make it there!  _

 

And so he did, a while later. In between receiving dramatic and worried texts from a certain Canadian, Alfred set to work, hoping that he’d be able to get to the meeting before the lunch break. 

 

It was slow work, but it was work all the same.  _ Alpha!  _ His mind cried, but America kept as focused as he could get.  _ I'm not letting some stupid biological mishap from thousands of years stop me from representing my country!  _ He thought heroically.  _ That wouldn't make me a hero!  _

 

And so, Alfred got dressed, taking great care to go through the bag of cosmetics he’d left in the bathroom the night before to find a bottle of omega scent concealer-- a tool that had saved his life many times before. Finally, he stood in front of the mirror, staring at his horribly dilated eyes as he pondered how he could fix them.  _ Can I?  _ He stared, swayed as he did.  _ I smell an Alpha…  _ his nose picked up someone’s scent in the hallway, but it didn't seem to be all that attractive to Alfred, therefore making it easier from him to stay sane. 

 

_ I'll just roll with the eyes,  _ America thought, mentally shrugging.  _ Just don't don't make eye contact. How hard can it be?  _

 

Apparently a lot harder than he thought. 

 

**_~When It All Goes Down The Drain~_ **

 

When Alfred burst into the meeting hall, cloaked in a thick cloud of Axe-smelling cologne and walking like a drunk man, the others should've been ready to write it off as common America behavior after a night out drinking and partying.

 

However, there were some things that threw the nations off.

 

To begin with, they’d been told by Matthew that Alfred had come down with something and didn't have energy to do much but sleep. 

 

In addition to this odd fact, there was also the notion that Alfred looked so damn  _ bangable  _ all of a sudden.

 

None of the countries could admit that America wasn't hot, hell no, they  _ all  _ agreed that he was a collection of admirable features, yes-- but everyone had a type. France liked the quiet ones, Germany liked brunettes… not everyone was into the blonde, blue-eyed jock type. 

 

But all of a sudden, all the alphas in the room (which was a majority of the countries) suddenly felt a massive attraction towards the drunk-looking blonde. His skin was flushed  _ just  _ the right shade, and his eyes were reflecting the perfect hue of blue, while his smile and hair and literally  _ everything  _ about his appearance was suddenly perfect for him. 

 

“проклятие,” Ivan breathed suddenly, wide smile disappearing from his face for once. 

 

“H-hey!” Alfred stuttered out. “I'm… late?” Squeezing out the words took almost all of the effort in his body as he fought not to be overpowered by the scents of the Alphas lacing the air like an alluring drug just pulling him in.  _ Damnit _ , he thought. His suitcase had gotten switched out, and the pills that made him immune to the Alpha’s scents had been in his bag. He could've sworn he’d brought the right bags from the airport, but it seemed that out of his two, one had been the wrong one. 

 

As a result, he was now here, in a room full of alphas, without a way to resist them. 

 

While in a heat.

 

_ Just divine.  _

 

**_~When It All Goes Down The Drain~_ **

 

Francis was beyond surprised. He usually liked the quiet, shy type, but  _ Amérique  _ was standing right in front of him, having almost literally crashed a meeting, the outline of a wrapped hamburger in his pocket, wearing a Star Wars t-shirt and disrupting the calm proceedings of the entire meeting in a way that France would usually  _ never  _ find attractive-- but yet, the romantic blonde couldn't help but find it all endearing and adorable and  _ putain de merde  _ Alfred’s eyes were  _ beau _ . 

 

Germany was busy staring down at the ditsy, drunk-looking American. How he managed to look completely fine in that  _ atrociously  _ casual attire in a  _ formal meeting  _ was beyond him. No matter how hard he tried, however, Ludwig could not keep himself from tracing the thrumming muscles that moved  _ oh _ -so perfectly in America’s flexing jaw and throat and collarbones, all of which reminded him unnecessarily of a mostly-naked Italy, who seemed to have the same structure of shoulders. As a result, the German’s eyes were almost glued to the dips and stretches in the skin, suddenly so perfect that they seemed almost as though they had been etched into stone. 

 

Russia was no stranger to America’s beauty, but he had to admit that he couldn't even  _ find  _ a part of America to focus on. He just seemed so  _ radiant  _ and  _ alive  _ all of a sudden that he no longer just seemed like the annoying, loud brat that usually put up a fight with him. Something about Alfred was ticking him off, but he couldn't put his finger on it. 

 

Britain, overall, was almost as big of a mess as Alfred was at the moment. His cheeks flushed as soon as he saw the American walk in, not wanting to recall the images from the night before (but unconsciously making the decision to do it anyways) before he realized there was an odd light he was giving off today that somehow, the Brit couldn't recall ever seeing before.

 

It was like Al, in himself, was a lightbulb, and he just walked into the room and lit it up all around, and suddenly nobody could take their eyes off of him to start asking the glaring questions that  _ really  _ needed to be asked.

 

His sudden change of appearance (though nobody could pinpoint exactly why it had happened) seemed to have put the room under a spell, and Arthur was the one most violently affected. 

 

_ Bloody hell!  _ His thoughts were whirling as he took in the sudden glow of Alfred’s skin and twinkle of his eyes and the was his presence seemed to call to the Brit,  _ come here! Love me!  _

 

And Arthur almost couldn't resist. 

 

**_~When It All Goes Down The Drain~_ **

 

_ A few hours earlier… _

 

“So,  _ Angleterre _ ,” France practically crooned, after dragging Arthur all the way to the meeting spot, “did you and  _ Amérique  _ have fun last night?” He coupled this raunchy statement with a wink.

 

“Knock it off, you bloody bastard!” England grumbled, taking a long sip of tea from his cup, which he just seemed to carry every waking moment. 

 

“Denial is the first step the acceptance,  _ mon cher _ .” France looked particularly evil as he bit into some stereotypically French breakfast while combing out his carefully brushed hair. “Now tell  _ moi _ . What happened between you two in that  _ chambre  _ last night?”

 

“Nothing,” England grumbled. “Matthew was there.”

 

“Oh!  _ Pauvre Arthur! _ ” France yelled dramatically, slapping a hand to his chest. “You did not have the  _ sexe  _ because of my  _ Mathieu _ !” 

 

Poor Arthur spit out his treasured tea, effectively scorching the delicate plant on the table in front of him. “Have the what??” He yelled angrily, a red blush creeping up how cheeks as he wiped tea from his lips, attempting to look less like an idiot.

 

“Oh, don’t be a  _ prude, Angleterre _ ! I know that you have had  _ sexe  _ before,  _ idiot _ .” Francis sat back, as though dissatisfied. “Bad,  _ Angleterre _ ,  _ trés  _ bad.” He began to shake his head, lips pushed into a practiced duck-pout. 

 

“Get your mind out of the gutter, you damned frog!” Arthur sputtering, angrily dabbing a napkin at his collar which had suffered the brunt of the tea damage. “Alfred and I didn't even talk. We weren’t gonna do  _ anything.  _ And since when are me and him a thing, anyways? He's just an ally, you twat!” 

 

“Ally,  _ Angleterre _ ?” Francis chuckled, leaning in uncomfortably close as his eyes narrowed. “Are you  _ sure _ ?”

 

Arthur just glared in response, deciding that France was not worthy of a response. 

 

“Everyone knows you love  _ Amérique _ , you know. Except Alfred himself.” The blue-eyed man said quietly.

 

“That's not true!” The Englishman spat, before regaining his composure. “I mean, I don't like him! So how could everyone know?”

 

“As I said before, denial is the first step to acceptance,  _ mon ami _ ,” The long-haired blonde repeated simply, looking what could be best described as satisfied. 

 

England huffed, vexed at how the conversation was literally going in circles.  _ This is a waste of my time,  _ he thought, making a move to get up before the Frenchman grabbed his sleeve. “Wait,  _ Angleterre, _ ” he called. “Alfred’s going to be at the meeting!”

 

“I  _ know  _ that,” Arthur snapped, annoyed, pulling his blazer sleeve away from Francis’s spindly fingers. “It's a  _ world meeting,  _ you git!”

 

“Do you think I am  _ stupide _ ?” France huffed, cheeks puffing like he was a pufferfish. 

 

“Yes,” England muttered under his breath. 

 

“ _ Silencieux _ !” Francis lectured. “Your blazer is tea stained! You cannot wear that when meeting your  _ amor!  _ Especially since it’s stained with  _ thé _ ! Do I need to remind  _ toi  _ of the Boston Tea Party?”

 

Britain’s eyes narrowed. “Are you  _ trying  _ to tick me off?” 

 

“When am I not,  _ mon cheri? _ ” The Frenchman dropped a wink, to which the green-eyed man shoved him away with the rude imitation of a barfing noise. He then started off into the building in which the meeting would be held, leaving Francis in the dust. 

 

“ _ Mais Angleterre _ !” the poor Frenchman yelled after him. “ _ Ton chemise!” _

 

“Oh, shut up, you frog!” England yelled back. “My suitcase got switched, alright? I'll change my shirt during the lunch break.” And with that, Arthur slipped into the meeting room, locking the door behind him and leaving poor Francis out to wait until one of the countries felt enough pity to open the door. 

 

**_~When It All Goes Down The Drain~_ **

_Back in the present..._  

 

“I thought you said he was sick?” England asked Matthew, eyes narrowed in suspicion. “He doesn't  _ look _ sick.” 

 

“He- he was when I left!” Matthew confessed hurriedly. “What are you doing here??” He hissed to America. “I told you to stay in the hotel!”

 

“I'm the hero!” America whispered back. “I can't  _ not  _ come to a meeting!” 

 

“ _Veh~~_ he looks very pretty to me!” Italy said suddenly. “Almost like a girl!” 

 

Alfred glared at Feliciano, lips stuck out in an angry duck pout. “I don't look like a  _ girl _ !” He whined sounding a little bit too much like one. 

 

“You are not sick,  _ oui _ ,” France mumbled, tapping his lips. “ _ Mais quelque chose est éteint, non, Mathieu _ ?” Nobody but Matthew understood the question (or was even sure if it was a question). While a few of them  _ did  _ speak French, Francis was just too good at speaking it fast and in an accent that made it almost impossible for anyone but Matthew to pick it up. 

 

“ _ Ce n'est rien, Francis. _ ” Matthew replied quietly, while everyone watched, trying to figure out what they were saying. 

 

“ _ Tu me caches quelque chose, mon cher? _ ” 

 

“ _ Il n'y a rien à cacher, je vous l'ai dit! Il était malade quand je suis parti, et maintenant il n'est pas! Maintenant, laisse-le aller, Francis. _ ” Matthew seemed to be in full rant mode, and as a side, seemed angry as well. For someone that no one ever noticed, the countries suddenly felt a bit sad that they’d never welcomed Canada enough to watch a spectacle like this in a World Meeting before. 

 

France was silent for a moment before opening his mouth to respond, but he was interrupted by a pissed-looking England. 

 

“If you’re going to argue,” he began, voice measured. “Then do it in goddamn  _ English  _ so at least  _ half  _ of us can follow.” He took an angry sip of his coffee. “Have your bloody French class somewhere else. Alfred being here affects  _ everyone _ , so we all deserve to know what you were arguing about.” 

 

“Nothing,  _ mon amour _ ,” Francis cooed. “ _ Matthieu  _ just said the same thing again.” 

 

Arthur’s dark eyes narrowed again before a red America spoke up. “Stop arguing,” he commanded in a quiet tone, ready to faint. “Let’s just start the meeting, okay?”

 

Everyone was a teensy bit surprised at Alfred’s sudden interjection, and on top of that, his complete omission of the words ‘dude’ and ‘man’ and basic white girl terminology in his outburst. 

 

“Yes, of course,” Germany said, voice harried from being silent for so long. “So we were talking about…”

 

Everyone began to settle down again, sneaking glances at the furious Canada now and then, while others stared at America, wondering what was making him so weird and different today. Others couldn't help but wonder what France was thinking for that thoughtful and analytical expression to be etched into his face so deep, while everyone avoided England’s gaze, hoping to escape his wrath. 

 

Throughout it all, Russia just looked at America, unblinking. 

 

No matter what it was that had made Alfred so different today, Ivan would figure it out. That, he vowed. 

 

Throughout the internal drama, poor Al could do nothing but sit there, head bobbing up and down in an effort to not latch on to Arthur next to him. The scent of Alphas in the air was magnetic and perfect and made him feel as though he could curl up right now with any Alpha that was willing and breathe in and store their scent so he’d never, ever, ever forget the tingly feeling it gave him. Every fiber of his body was hypersensitive, and he kept on seeing the grounds and walls around him move like heat waves, and the scents lacing the air seemed to push themselves onto him and pile on America like a blanket.

 

_ So warm. So warm.  _

 

Alfred curled his hands into fists in his lap.  _ Why did I come here again?  _ He regretted his decision all of a sudden as he stared at the ceiling, watching it dip and sway and move and was he underwater?  _ Oh my god I'm gonna die. I feel like I'm gonna die. Oh my god oh my god-- _

 

“America?” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so sorry for everything that happened in this chapter, haha! I hope you enjoyed or tolerated the stuff my brain vomited, and see you next time!!


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A lunch date gone wrong :D

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! I'm so glad you're reading this if you're here! I know I suck with sporadic updates and drawn out chapters that don't really make sense and delayed replies to comments and odd cliffhangers and unedited work, but I hope the story is good enough that you can stick with me til the end! See you at the bottom!

It was Germany who had spoken, and from the looks of it, Alfred had already been called up multiple times, but just hadn't head his name being yelled across the room in the demanding, German-accented voice while everyone stared at him.

****

The wonders of a heat. 

****

_I wish I could ignore his voice like this every time_ , he thought for a minute. _Minus the headache though, that sucks…_ He cleared his throat. “Yeah? Do I have to present?” Alfred finally formed a sentence after a long analyzing process.

****

“Well, yes--” Poor Ludwig began his statement, only to be ushered away from America, who’d finally worked up the strength and balance to get up from his chair and talk about his plans.

****

“Cool story bro,” Alfred called, channeling all the energy and willpower in every single cell in his body. The room began to shrink back as they seemed to sense America going back to normal, but Russia, England, and France were still hot on Al’s tail-- they were one hundred percent sure there was a secret being hidden from everyone, and all three of them wanted to be the one to reveal it. 

****

However, poor oblivious Alfred had no inkling of this, and instead clambered up the the focus of the room with his files, looking drunk as hell and high as a bird. He proceeded to squinting at his mixed up notes with an insanely tiny font and ended up spending almost an hour reframing the same information in six different ways as he tried to recall what ‘code 16’ was. 

****

Finally, Germany took pity on the poor American and offered to read his notes for him, to which Alfred half-hearted started a rant about being the hero and not needing help. 

****

Matthew cringed and groaned his way through Alfred’s entire presentation, bubbling with frustration and annoyance as his twin managed to screw up for the  _ millionth  _ time on the word ‘delegates’. While America wiped his glasses nervously and stared at the sheet of paper between his fingers again, sweating profusely, Canada decided he couldn't take it anymore. 

****

“Germany!” Canada hollered. (Okay, he said it in a talking tone. But to him, it was hollering.) “It’s 12:03.” 

****

The nations all stared at him as if they’d already forgotten he was there, while France seemed to avoid looking in his general direction, as though reminded of the conversation about Matthew’s sexual drive the day before. 

****

“What about it?” England spoke up before Ludwig could even process the statement.

****

“It's lunch time, is it not?” Matthew asserted, though his voice remained calm and controlled. “Why don't we pick up after?” 

****

“Ve~~~ pasta!!” Nobody needed to turn and look to see whose mouth that certain exclamation had come out of. 

****

“Maybe we  _ should _ take a short break,” Japan spoke up, voice almost as soft as Canada’s but much louder. “It seems as though everyone here desperately needs it, and we all deserve it, Germany-San.” 

****

“Alright,” Ludwig sighed, the unofficial leader of the meetings. “An hour.” 

****

Within seconds of the dismissal, many countries had already dashed out of the room, setting out to hunt down food. As the numbers in the meeting room dwindled, Alfred tried to make his way back to his seat, gripped the table as he walked to keep from falling over. 

****

He had almost reached his seat successfully when he seemed to trip on some invisible object, falling straight onto a vexed and waiting Matthew. “What were you  _ thinking _ ?” The Canadian hissed, holding up his brother’s weight as he tried to restore balance to his jelly-like body. 

****

_ I’m screwed _ , Alfred thought, trying to make his lips form an acceptable answer. While Matthew almost never got mad (America could count the times he had on one hand), when the Canadian country  _ did  _ get mad, he was like an erupting volcano, with no end to his passive aggressive, petty, angry, destructive, grudge holding, awful tendencies. 

****

As far as Alfred remembered, the American himself was the only one that had ever succeeded in pissing off the mostly happy and peaceful country.  _ Goes to show how annoying I can truly be when I try,  _ he thought, congratulating himself on a new achievement as Matthew glared.

****

“Are you even  _ listening _ ?” He spat, grabbing his brother's arm in one hand and his files in another. “Come with me.”

****

“Where are we going?” Alfred managed to spit out as Matthew dragged him down the halls. 

****

“You covered your scent great,” The violet-eyed twin said randomly, choosing to blatantly ignore his brother. 

****

Before Alfred could think about the statement and develop any comprehensive answer, he was plopped into a wooden chair in a highly uninhabited room with round tables and a small bar. The walls were awfully textured and green, Alfred noticed as Matthew took off to a small counter, wallet in hand.

****

_ Smells like food,  _ Alfred thought, looking around and to the Chinese characters on the walls.  _ And Alphas.  _

****

The scent was strong. Alfred could not tell whose it was, but it was strong. However, Alfred was fairly sure he could resist it. After being distracted and teased by every single scent in the room during his presentation, he really doubted that any of the scents in this room could really faze him at all. This thought empowering him, he turned away and tried to breathe as shallowly as possible while waiting for Matthew to return.

****

“Alfred?” A strong British accent floated across the distant clamor of dishes and pots and pans somewhere in the kitchen as America suddenly looked for something to be occupied with.  _ Oh, not now. Holy shit, man, please, not now.  _ He began to get up and pretend to go to the bathroom, legs shaking, when he felt spindly fingers gently grab his arm. “Where’re you off to, love?” 

****

Alfred tried to look everywhere but Arthur’s eyes, knowing that if he looked into them once, we wouldn't be able to look away. “The bathroom,” he whispered, but England didn't seem to hear. 

****

“Are you okay, Alfred?” England continued asking questions, obviously concerned. 

****

“Just had too much to drink, old man. Loosen up!” Alfred managed to chuckle, but it sounded plastic, as if he was reading it off off of a script. But nobody could blame him, of course-- he was busy trying not to give into his urges and pull Arthur into the nearest closet. 

****

Arthur visibly bristled at the mild insult, deciding that Alfred was partially fine. “I see. You didn't seem drunk when I came over.”

****

_ Shit!  _ Alfred was beyond panicking now.  _ Does he remember anything from last night? Specifically my outfit?  _ “I-I… drank after you fell asleep?” It sounded like a question, and if England had  _ really  _ wanted to know what was going on, it'd wouldn't’ve been that hard to figure out. 

****

“Ah, I apologize for that,” Arthur said, sitting down at the table. “I almost forgot-- I accidentally took your suitcase with me this morning. Would you like to come switch it out later?” 

****

_ I am in deep, deep crap.  _ Alfred took a shaky breath.  _ I thought my suitcase got switched out at the airport-- but it's with Arthur?  _ America was about to respond when a thought struck him.  _ Has he seen my omega pills yet??  _

****

**_~When It All Goes Down The Drain~_ **

****

_ Bloody hell,  _ Britain couldn't help himself from guiltily enjoying this conversation to its fullest. Arthur himself kept on spewing any random shit that he could think of while Alfred continued to look like adorable and just goddamn  _ bangable.  _

****

_ His hair falls into his eyes  _ just _ right, and it just seems to glitter like gold,  _ Arthur thought as America stuttered out a response to one of England’s pointless questions.  _ His cheeks are flushed just the right shade, too.  _ Alfred’s eyes darted up for a fraction of a second before he looked away, as if the patriotic nation was too bashful to meet the British man’s gaze.  _ They’re so blue,  _ Arthur thought, the single snapshot of Al’s sky blue eyes frozen in his memory.  _ Blue like an ocean… or the sky…bloody hell, I sound like an idiot. _

****

**_~When It All Goes Down The Drain~_ **

****

Arthur was staring at America. Al could just  _ feel  _ it.  _ What do I say??  _ Alfred racked his brain for something that would sound smart, something that would make this invitation to get back his suitcase into a possible outing… while at the same time trying to figure out how to get  _ away  _ from Arthur; because if he didn't, Alfred was almost one hundred percent sure that he would faint from the lack of breathing he was doing.

****

_ I can't breathe too much!  _ America reminded himself.  _ What if I inhale his scent?  _ The blonde nation might not have been the smartest in the world, but he knew enough to realize that for the sake of his pride, breathing any more than he was now would be a  _ disastrous  _ idea. 

****

He was contemplating the foolproof plan of yelling “Look! Aliens!” at the ceiling and bolting at first chance when his life was saved by a slightly overprotective Canadian brother. 

****

“Arthur,” Matthew asked, frustration lacing his tone. “What are you doing here?”

****

“I thought I could join you for lunch, perhaps?” England chuckled, surprised at his own boldness. “Otherwise the stupid frog won't stop bothering me.” 

****

“Uh, right, that would be  _ amazing  _ but Alfred and I were going to take this meal back to the room,” Matthew gave a timid smile, hoping to ward away the Englishman. 

****

“Oh, I see.” Arthur was marginally uncomfortable, getting Matthew’s message.  _ Go away.  _ “I'll go then, have a good lunch!” 

****

England turned on his heel, ready to leave, but he didn't get to do what he had originally planned-- he was stopped by a certain American omega. 

****

**_~When It All Goes Down The Drain~_ **

****

Alfred didn't know why he did it, or where he got the courage from. He was just listening to Matthew try to shoo England away, and the next thing he knew, Alfred was almost  _ begging  _ Arthur to stay. 

****

“Come on, Artie,” he had managed to squeeze out. “You can hang with us.”

****

“But Matthew said--”

****

“Don't mind him, come on, we even got croissants!” Alfred was all of a sudden pulling Arthur into a chair and handing him food, all while Canada watched, vexation slowly growing. 

****

Alfred himself was quite annoyed as well. It was as though he was watching himself from above his body, watching it repeatedly give reasons for England to stay until he relented. Matthew sat down with an annoyed huff, anger radiating through his very being as he pushed mashed potatoes around his plate. 

****

_ Help me _ , Alfred was caught in close proximity of an Alpha with nowhere to go.  _ Why do I do this to myself?  _ He thought, slowly chewing a carrot for much longer than it needed to be chewed.  _ Why did I even come here? Why did I ask him to sit with us? Why do I do all of these things that endanger one of the few secrets I have?  _

****

“Are you alright, love?” 

****

The honey-smooth voice beside him startled the American out of his trance. Alfred took a quick, deep drag of breath in his surprise, ruining the method of shallow breathing he’d developed. 

****

Suddenly, he was flooded with the intense version of the mild smell he’d been trying not to pick up on for the past ten minutes. 

****

Arthur’s scent.

****

It smelled like rain and tea and something that reminded Alfred of unicorns. It was warm and cozy and cold and fresh and shockingly refreshing all at once. 

****

And it hit Alfred like a brick. 

****

Suddenly, all of his sense were muddled and thick, and he could barely hear or see anything-- anything but Arthur, that is. It was like his eyes just honed in on him and tuned out everything else entirely. Suddenly, Arthur’s eyes took on a new shade of green and his worried voice was something of a heavenly harp song. “So… pretty…” Alfred managed to giggle as he contemplated reaching for England’s collar to yank him closer.  _ He’s already so close to me… just a little bit… more…  _

****

“Alfred? Alfred, are you okay? Answer me!” The voice was worried and strained and had a hint of underwateriness to it, but the British accent lacing it was so  _ goddamn perfect  _ that Alfred could care less what the Brit was saying. 

****

“Al?” 

****

Suddenly, that snapped him out of it. His brother’s voice cut through the haze like a knife through butter, and everything came back with terrifying quality, all the colors and people and sounds flooding him at once. 

****

But Arthur’s eyes were still glued to the American, and poor Al couldn't look away. He fought his urge to get closer until he couldn't get any closer, but with every passing millisecond, it was becoming a bigger and bigger desire that seemed to overtake him like he was possessed.  _ I need to get away! I need to get away!  _

****

Alfred didn't need any more prompting than that. He took one last look at Arthur, then Matthew. 

****

And then he bolted. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hallo again! I'm so sorry about how long it takes me to update lately. I'm really busy and I've sorta lost interest in the ship (I still love reading it, I just don't really feel like writing it) but if you leave enough comments and kudos (so I know there are actually people who read it) I might feel more motivated to write more anyways. Thanks for all the support, I'll do my best to finish this!


	6. An Omega?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> One of America's carefully guarded secrets finally comes to light in the worst way possible.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> GUYS I'M SO SO SO SO SORRY! I just realized I haven't updated in months! I didn't mean for this to drag on for so long; in fact, I was expecting for this to be much shorter and to be much quicker. This time, I'm not going to promise anything about when the next chapter will come out since I know that I'm very unreliable about it. However, I have some free time in the next few days, so hopefully I can get some writing in. Again, I'm so, so sorry about this guys! I hope you'll still stick with me. :D See you at the bottom!

“America!” 

****

“Al!”

****

“ _ Amérique!”  _

****

_ “ _ America-san!” 

****

Voices of countries echoed through the chilly landscape surrounding the meeting building. 

****

“Where could he be?” Arthur mumbled under his breath, slightly worried. 

****

“Ve~~ maybe he wanted a nap,” Italy suggested, peaking through a window at a young woman at the reception. 

****

“Now?” Germany said, at the same time that Japan spoke up. 

****

“America-San wouldn't sleep out in the snow.” The polite man said quietly. 

****

“Then where did the git go?” England seemed pissed, raking a hand through his hair. “He just bolted, the bloody wanker.” 

****

“Do you have any idea why?” Germany’s voice was low and rumbling as he asked the question, his blue eyes glued to Russia as Ivan silently moved around, looking from Alfred without conversation. 

****

“If I knew why, wouldn't I have told you already?” Arthur was biting back frustrated insults as he stuffed his hands in his pockets. “It's bloody freezing out here.”

****

“It's  _ China.”  _

****

Before England could let loose another sarcastic comment on that, he heard a surprised yelp.

****

“It’s  _ Amerique _ !” Francis was running at full speed, cheeks flushed and hair tousled. “He’s dead!” 

****

**_~When It All Goes Down The Drain~_ **

****

The combination of Russia, England, and Germany had been enough to carry the startlingly heavy America back inside. Canada, Japan, and France had acted as the ‘spotters’ trying to make sure that nobody died in the moving process. By the time that Alfred was back inside, the snow had gotten heavy and had started to pile up against the windows, creating an effective cage around the building. 

****

“Divine,” Arthur grumbled, sniffing as he looked out the largely-blocked window. 

****

Meanwhile, Matthew set hard to work, wiping snow off of a red and horribly warm Alfred as nations gathered in the room and the word passed around. “The others should leave,” Matt said quietly. “Al needs time.”

****

“I'm not leaving,” Arthur remained stubborn.

****

“ _ Moi  _ either.” Francis sidled up next to the Englishman with an expression of seriousness that nobody had seen on him since the last war. 

****

“I have to help with the medical aspect, do I not?” Ludwig shifted from foot to foot almost nervously, as if he couldn't wait to be excluded from the group currently in the room. 

****

“Please help him,” Canada asked Germany. “We can't even leave the building now.” 

****

“I'll see what I can do,” Germany said as the others slowly began to file out. “I'll try my best.” 

****

Italy left for the kitchens, deciding that the best possible solution to Alfred’s sudden sickness  _ had  _ to be a doctor-prescribed dose of pasta. 

****

However, Russia was the last to leave. He turned and looked at Alfred with watchful eyes for a moment before slipping out the door, the calculations evident in his expression. 

****

**_~When It All Goes Down The Drain~_ **

****

“How is he doing?” Matthew was nervously fidgeting beside his brother, running his hand over Alfred’s hair every now and then, to comfort him as much as comfort himself. He was worried, but not as much as the others, since he knew that the condition plaguing Alfred wasn't something harmful: it was just a heat-- a really ill- timed one. 

****

However, Arthur was pacing like a maniac while Francis tapped his fingers on the wood of his armchair continuously, as if contemplating something. 

****

Suddenly, the flirty male stopped, freezing as though he’d seen a ghost. His tapping fingers stalled in place, as if he was a living sculpture, blue eyes widening with what seemed like sudden realization. “ _Matthieu, mon cheri,_ ” the Frenchman stuttered suddenly. “ _Toi_ _promets_ that you are an Alpha, and not an omega?”

****

Matthew glared at Francis. “Is this really the time?” He spat, turning back to his unconscious brother.

****

“ _ Non _ , I am very  _ sérieux.”  _ For once, France looked serious. “Please.” 

****

“Fine, yes. Are you happy now?” Matthew was thoroughly confused. Why was Francis bringing this up now?

****

“If you speak the truth,  _ mon garçon,  _ then who  _ is  _ the omega? Where is the heat scent coming from?” France’s voice was shaking as he surveyed the small group of people in the room, as if distrusting everything he was seeing. 

****

There were only five people in the room.

****

Germany.

****

America.

****

Canada.

****

England.

****

And France. 

****

Matthew froze. The Canadian knew that Francis knew of England and Germany both being Alphas, and the flirty blonde had recently found out about Matthew being an Alpha as well. 

****

Which, by deductive reasoning, only left one person that could possibly be an omega.

****

_ I could play it off and say I was lying until now,  _ Matthew thought hurriedly.  _ They can't tell by my scent since I'm not in a rut.  _ Before he could enact the said plan, however, he was stopped by another thought.  _ Even if I lied, Al’s heat-scent would reveal it all. How did he mask it until now?  _

****

Panic mounting in the Canadian’s chest, he looked down at his now-half-conscious brother and then back up at Germany, whose nose twitched as if on cue. 

****

“Is that…?” Ludwig’s voice trailed off as his eyes darted around the room, as if looking for Feliciano, Antonio, or another rare omega country. 

****

_ Shit. Shit. Shit.  _ Matthew raked his hands through his hair as Francis and Ludwig reached the conclusion at the same time, staring at Alfred wide-eyed and in shock. 

****

_ His scent-concealer must have come off in the snow!  _ Matthew realized, resisting the urge to punch someone.  _ What do I do what do I do-- _

****

“How is he?” Arthur had returned from his long, frenzied pacing down the small room. His eyebrows were furrowed as he walked up to the trio, expecting them to say something. “Hello--” his voice dropped as the sweet, enticing smell hit him like a slap to the face. “What--what the bloody hell?” The green-eyed man looked up and down at Matthew with suspicion before his eyes attached to Alfred’s curled up figure, realizing the fact that the other two people in the room had come across much earlier. 

****

Alfred was… an  _ omega.  _

****

**_~When It All Goes Down The Drain~_ **

****

Nobody in the room had the courage to speak. Germany was busy wondering if he’d just been so out of the loop that nobody had chosen to tell him this little fine detail, while France couldn't help but wonder if he’d been losing his touch. After all, he’d been dealing with the American since he was  _ born,  _ and in the over two hundred years since America had been become a country, France hadn’t able to notice this apparent fact? 

****

The most affected of them all had to be Arthur, however. He was in a conflicted state, to say the least. Half of him was beating himself up for not realizing this earlier after having quite literally  _ raised  _ the lad, while another half of him worried about how good Alfred had gotten at hiding things, and England wondered if there were darker things he chose to hide as well. Arthur had already run out of halves of himself, but yet he was still worried about the fact that Alfred had chosen not to tell England about this, especially if it bothered him so much as to keep it a secret. But suddenly, a lot of Al’s odd behavior, his unwillingness to talk about omegas, his constant shared looks with Matthew, and his ‘sicknesses’ made sense. Arthur was almost ashamed to admit there there was a part of him that loved the idea of Alfred being an omega. 

****

_ We have a chance together,  _ he thought suddenly.  _ It's actually possible.  _ Arthur could just see it now-- for almost two centuries, England had kept his feelings a secret, pretended they weren't real-- just because he thought that America was an Alpha. And Alphas and Alphas just  _ didn't  _ have relationships, according to society. But this-- an Alpha-Omega relationship was  _ normal!  _ Alfred being an Omega meant that there was a chance that Al might be attracted to Arthur!  _ Oh, shut up, you bloody bastard,  _ Arthur's inner voice was always one to call him out.  _ He’d in pain, you jackass. How can you think about things like this when he’s feverish and writhing on a bed?  _

****

The last thought brought images from down the gutter to his head, no matter how much he fought them.

****

_ And don't forget, you’re not a hundred percent sure he’s an Omega!  _

****

That one point derailed his entire celebration. It was quite possible that he’d mistook something else for an Omega’s heat scent, or maybe he was dreaming… there was  _ surely  _ no way that  _ Alfred  _ of all people could possibly be an Omega, right? 

****

Judging by Francis and Germany's frozen faces, as well as Matthew’s distressed one, England somehow found it safe enough to say that he wasn't the only one who could smell the flowery, inviting scent lingering in the air. 

****

It was fitting to Alfred. 

****

It smelled how Arthur imagined sunshine and optimism would.  _ I just want to go over and…  _

****

His rather poetic monologue was interrupted by Ludwig clearing his throat. 

****

“Matthew,” Germany sighed, rubbing the back of his neck in an overly awkward manner. “Is there something you need to tell us?”

****

“What do you mean?” Canada responded defiantly, refusing to admit to the very obvious lie that had been probably been entirely revealed to the point of no going back already. 

****

“Matthew, please,” Ludwig continued. “I understand it is probably a secret of something of the sort, but if we want to make sure America is safe and healthy, we need to know.”

****

“Is Alfred an Omega, Matthew?” It was Arthur himself who had asked his last question the seemed so loud and deafening in the quiet room, despite England having spoken in a tone barely above a whisper. 

****

Matthew seemed internally conflicted. He didn't want to tell everyone the secret that the North American brothers had sacrificed too much to guard, yet, at this point, if Matthew didn't do something,  _ everyone  _ would find out, even if he denied it. 

****

If he didn't tell Germany now, they might not be able to treat Alfred correctly, and that might lead to him being in more pain or becoming sicker. 

****

None of the options were good options, but he had no other choices. He was contemplating staying silent and twiddling his thumbs when he heard a groan as his brother twisted onto his side. 

****

“Mattie?” The Canadian jumped at the distraction, reaching to take America’s hand in an attempt to derail the train of thought on everyone’s mind. 

****

“You okay there, Alfred?” Canada asked, trying to mask his panic so that Al couldn't hear it. 

****

Fortunately, the American was blissfully oblivious, even more so that he usually was. Instead of answering his twin’s question, the blonde muttered about hot dogs and the color green (a word that certainly piqued England’s interest), before rolling over again, still holding Matthew’s hand as he closed his eyes. His breathing was thick and labored, a thin layer of perspiration gathering on his skin: yet, he looked even more attractive in that moment, if it was eve possible. 

****

It was a strong heat, as a result of all the times that Alfred had deterred them with prevention tablets. The heat was taking the American down like The Titanic, and if the Alphas weren't careful, they’d be going down too.

****

Ludwig licked his lips. “Matthew, you do realize that if he’s in this state, even an omega or beta could tell what’s going on with him.” 

****

France tapped his finger on his chin. “Just a simple yes or no,  _ Matthieu _ . We don't want to jump to conclusions, even if the answer to our question is right in front of our faces.” He said the entire phrase in slightly accented English, not dipping into his French even once, despite his common habit of doing so. It was unsettling. “Is Alfred an Omega?” The question was repeated again, the blue-eyed blonde voicing it in a sultry tone that somehow made Matthew suddenly feel self conscious and scared. 

****

He twisted his wrists between his hands, feeling horribly awkward and guilty as he uttered out the simple word. “Yes.” 

****

Arthur’s eyebrows somehow managed to magically disappear to under his hair, Francis swallowed noisily, and Ludwig stood block still, wondering what his place in all of this would be. 

****

And Matthew shivered, suddenly cold.  _ Goddamnit, Matthew!  _ He thought to himself.  _ You had one job! And you went and screwed up!  _

****

When Alfred woke up, Matthew would be in deep, deep shit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As I said earlier, I really haven't abandoned this story!! Please stick with me a little bit longer guys, I promise to see this story to completion! I hope you enjoyed the chapter; please leave a kudos or a comment!!! I love you guys so much! 
> 
> ~ Lea


	7. A Really Nice Bar

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Al claims his heat is over and tags along with Matthew and the rest of the crew to a really nice bar, where our shenanigans REALLY begin.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hallo! I realize I've been gone forever now, so if you're reading this, thanks for being here and reading! It means a lot. I meant it when I said I wasn't abandoning this story, so stick around and the ending will happen-- I promise! Anyways, please enjoy! I have a song that this chapter is themed by, so check it out and maybe even listen to it while reading. :) 
> 
> See you at the bottom!

[Luhan "Lu"](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=20DHIzt7YeM)

* * *

Matthew had tried to keep it a secret: he really had. But when push came to shove, he wasn't able to keep his mouth shut-- but even if he had, it was already too late.

 

After all, Al couldn't blame his brother for this one. It was entirely Alfred’s fault. He had come out of the hotel room when he shouldn't've, he had tried to attend the meeting and attracted attention, requested that his crush (who was an alpha) should sit with them, reacted to his scent because of his own stupidity, ran out into the snow and got rid of his scent-deterrent, and ended up inside a room with the only people that weren't oblivious to the point that they wouldn't be able to figure out his secret. 

 

He had done all of this to himself. He had tried so hard to keep this a secret, but because of his big-ass ego, Alfred’s efforts had all gone down the drain, leaving him stranded out in the open, feeling uncomfortably vulnerable.  _ Just watch me screw up and tell Arthur I like him too,  _ Al thought as he tossed in his head, still in somewhat of a daze.  _ Then I won't need to worry about secrets, at least.  _

 

With a sigh, Alfred buried his head in his pillow, hoping the heat-suppressor pills would somewhat kick in.

 

* * *

 

A few days after the incident, America still refused to move from his room. The heat-suppressors were helping a lot, but due to the fact that Alfred had forgotten to take them before the heat struck had damaged the effectiveness. They had dulled whatever he felt, leaving him feeling slightly horny, sore, a little warmer than usual, and attracted to every guy his eyes had the chance to rest on. 

 

Which, of course, was one of the reasons he refused to leave the hotel room. 

 

Another reason was that he refused to face any of the other nations. How could he? He was the world superpower, the hero! Everyone knew he was an omega by this point; he was 100% sure. Even if Matthew pretended they didn't, Al was counting on the fact that every single nation was aware of the fact that he had no dignity left.  _ Except Feliciano,  _ Al decided.  _ He’s pretty much oblivious.  _

 

Another wave of the heat rolled over him, leading him to rut into the covers as he curled up into a ball, his warm breath wavering in the air.  _ I hate my life…  _

 

* * *

 

 

“How’re you feeling?” Matt asked a few days later. 

 

“Alright,” the American replied. The Canadian couldn’t ever remember seeing him look so depressed. 

 

“If you’re alright, then what’s with that face?” 

 

The blue-eyed male snorted, looking rather annoyed. “It’s hard to feel  _ great  _ when everyone knows you’re an omega.” 

 

“Geez, it’s not my fault, Al,” Canada sighed. “And I already said I was sorry.” 

 

Alfred sat back. “I know, I know it’s not your fault.” He ran a hand through his hair, relishing how it felt cool for once. He cast an eye at his brother. “And where are you heading off to?” 

 

The Canadian was dressed in grey slacks and a violet shirt, all tucked in and looking ready for a meeting. He shrugged. “Arthur and Francis said some of us were going out to a nice bar. They invited me along.” 

 

America wrinkled his nose. “That looks rather formal for a bar.” 

 

“It’s a  _ nice  _ bar,” Matt stressed, looking uncomfortable as he fiddled with a button. “Is it really that bad?” 

 

His brother snickered. “Nah, man. You pull it off.” He leaned forward suddenly, head cocked. “Say, can I tag along?” 

 

“Al, you can’t,” Canada began. “You were little still in heat less than a day ago! You said you still feel the after effects!” He should’ve known that whatever he said, it would make no difference. His brother hadn’t even waited for a moment after asking the question, ignoring his brother’s concerns and hurriedly getting dressed, suddenly cheerful.  _ Did I actually expect him to listen to me? _ , he thought, watching as the American hopped around. 

 

“Beer, beer, beer,” he chanted under his breath.

 

Matthew sighed, head falling back.  _ Here we go again.  _

* * *

 

 

“This  _ is  _ a nice bar,” Alfred commented as they pulled up to the building. It was glowing in the street, with sleek light fixtures and glassy floors. Everyone inside looked just as put together as Matthew had expected. 

 

The American took a deep breath, extra happy that Francis had brought over his switched out suitcase a few days ago. His suppressants hadn’t helped much in the beginning of the heat, but as he neared the end, they had proved to be effective enough that Matthew believed it to be over. 

 

The North American duo walked in together to be greeted by glowing rows of crystal lights littering the ceiling and a golden ambiance throughout the massive building that gave off the feel of a classy business restaurant instead of an alcohol joint. 

 

“ _ Amérique!”  _ Francis hollered from across the room. “ _ Matthieu!” _

 

“Why does he call me America but you Matthew?” Alfred mumbled under his breath, to which his brother just chucked. 

 

“I have no idea.” 

 

The brothers made their way to the table, where two spots had conveniently been left empty. Around the round table were gathered Arthur, Francis, Kiku, Feliciano, Ludwig, and Ivan. It was a strange gathering, to say the least. 

 

“Hey,” Matthew said, but alas, he was so quiet that everyone overlooked him again, looking instead at his American brother, the newly unveiled omega. 

 

Al squirmed under their gaze, dread rising up in his throat.  _ They’re gonna make fun of me,  _ he thought.  _ The great America is weak to them now. What pride can an omega country have?  _

 

He gave them a weak smile. France just smirked at him, while England kept staring. Ludwig just coughed. “Come, sit down,” he said finally. 

 

“Yeah,” America mumbled, stumbling into his chair and taking a stuttering breath.  _ Oh my god. Why am I doing this. I want to die,  _ he thought, trying to look normal. “So… uh… has anyone had a good hamburger recently?” 

 

Matthew facepalmed so hard that the others heard a  _ crack. _

* * *

 

 

“A VIP room,” Kiku mumbled, looking nervous. “Whatever for, Francis-san?” 

 

“It’s very private,” the frenchman replied, looking awfully sly. There’s much less people than there are out here.” 

 

“This is already very high end,” Ludwig sighed. “I don’t particularly like the VIP room myself.” 

 

“Oh,” Francis purred. “So you’ve been?”

 

“It is a little too dark and shady for my tastes.” the German replied, looking a little disturbed by France’s expression.

 

“Dark and shady,” Ivan hummed. “I like it. I like it very much.” 

 

“Veh~~” Feliciano giggled. “It sounds nice for napping~~”

“It doesn’t sound necessary,” Matthew mumbled, but he went ignored, like usual. 

 

“If they have harder alcohol in there than out here, I’m in,” Alfred said, slipping back into his old role as the other countries hadn’t outwardly said anything yet. He was in a good mood, and for a while, just wanted to forget he was an omega. 

 

“Some vodka, perhaps,” Ivan grinned, looking terrifyingly violent as he pushed his newly-order vodka away. “ _ Real  _ vodka.” 

 

“VIP room it is!” Francis grinned cheekily, looking just as threatening as Russia, leaving the others to wonder if they had made a grand mistake by trusting him. 

 

* * *

 

 

If the entrance room had been grand, the VIP room was nearly a palace. Ludwig had been right, however. It was quite dark and shady, with neon blue lights brightening the room from behind aquariums that covered the walls. Al gazed at the exotic fish that swam through the massive tanks, delighting in how a few even seemed to light up or camoflauge. 

 

A butler, it seemed, led them to a massive table that was made of polished marble, with complimentary drinks already set up. To Ivan’s delight, one of them was vodka. He reached out and took a sip, nodding in a approval. “This is real vodka,” he said. 

 

The others slipped in as the butler bowed to each of them in turn, handing them a menu of fancy sounding drinks that cost as much as a small boat. “You can order from the screens in the table,” he explained, gesturing at the smooth touchscreens in front of every seat. “A show will be beginning shortly.” 

 

“Now  _ this  _ is the life,” Alfred laughed loudly, sitting back. 

 

Ludwig sniffed. “I don’t particularly like the atmosphere,” he said. 

 

“Lighten up,  _ ami _ ,” Francis smiled. “You might like the show.” 

 

“What’s this show, anyways?” Arthur asked, taking a massive sip of his drink. 

 

“Better not be a strip show,” Matthew mumbled, but only France heard him. 

 

“I wouldn’t worry,” the frenchman grinned, making the Canadian worry all the more. 

 

The lights dimmed even further, casting a light on navy curtains that had blended into the darkness until then. The men all looked over, to see the curtains being pulled open slowly, exposing a beautiful blonde woman standing on top of a raised pedestal. She was wearing an awfully short, glittering number that showed off all her curves, sending a round of whistles throughout the crowd. A loud beat started as the pedestal began to lower. It sounded like some mix of a electronic and a rap beat. It was sexy and slow, and combined with the girl’s endless legs perched atop her tall shimmering heels, it was a show worth watching. 

 

“Ugh,” Matthew sighed, even as he didn’t take his eyes off of the woman. “This is pretty much gonna be a strip show.” 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THANKS SO MUCH FOR GETTING THROUGH THIS BORING CHAPTER HAHAHA! I hope it'll be more fun next time as we amp it up. Make sure to tell me if there are any mistakes (this is unedited), if anyone is OOC, or if you have any brilliant ideas that you want me to throw in there. :D Kudos, comment, subscribe!! I'll keep these chapters coming, so don't worry about this fading into oblivion! 
> 
> Thanks again for reading guys!! 
> 
> ~ Lea


	8. Arguments and Alleyways

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alfred gets up and personal with the bar dancer, Arthur goes on a rampage, and everyone gets hurt.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whoop whoop! I'm alive!! :D I'm gonna be absent for the next few months at least, and a sudden stroke of inspiration hit me for some random reason, so I'm back again. I've got to remind you that this chapter (like usual) is COMPLETELY unbetaed, so feel free to point out if there's anything strange going on. I pretty much just finished writing this and I'm posting without even reading over it once. Bad decision? Yes. Am I gonna do it again? Almost certainly. I'm gonna say straight up though-- don't expect an update from me soon. I'm really inspired as of now, but I'm not sure if that'll carry through writing the entire chapter-- and besides, I likely won't have that time. However, PLEASE leave some comments and kudos... they really make me want to find time to write more of this. :) Sorry for the shitty writing of this chapter: I hope it's decent enough that you can still enjoy it!

The woman was fierce. She moved with grace, stopping to make suggestive and sensual movements now and then as her background dancers pulled off routines that made Alfred’s head spin. 

 

Halfway through the song, the woman began to strut around the room, trailing tapered, manicured hands over soft heads of hair and broad shoulders and built thighs, leaving frustration in her wake. She made her way around the entire VIP room, and by the time she was on her fourth song, she reached the table that the countries had crowded around. All this time, none of them had said a word.

 

In fact, since the show had started, Al was pretty sure the entire room had been dead silent as they watched the seductress work her magic. As for him, Alfred wasn’t really into women as much as he was into guys (however, for him, Alpha was the way to go regardless of first gender), but he had to admit that the lady was drop dead gorgeous. The way she moved was eye catching and her voice was a showstopper for sure.

 

As she sung out the last bit of the second chorus, her song delved into mixed electronic beats, her background dancers strutting around the room. The woman leaned forward, giving Francis, Ivan, and Ludwig an eyeful as she dropped a risqué wink. 

 

Arthur regarded her with hardened eyes as she reached for him; enough that he somewhat scared her away. Instead of going full out, she just touched his shoulder lightly and moved on, not wanting to mess with him.

 

Alfred was in clear vicinity. The music returned at full force and the woman raised her microphone to her mouth, dropping the lyrics in a low, sexual tone as she reached forward to yank America towards her by the collar.

 

While he had been able to rely on his scent blockers thus far, with him still dwelling in the less-extreme days of heat and the woman so close, her alpha scent hit him like a truck. He blinked, trying to free himself of the smell of citric fruit, but it was useless.

 

She seemed to have realized that Alfred was an omega, judging by the spark in her eye. The microphone still held just a hair from her lips, she sat herself right in his lap, free hand slipping through Al’s hair as the sexy words fell like growls from her painted lips. While she was singing them for the entire room to hear, it rather felt like she was just whispering them in Alfred’s ear. 

 

The beat dropped, and taking advantage of the free moment, the gorgeous woman leaned forward and smashed her lips on Al’s, holding him in place with a hand on. E back of his head. 

 

He let out a surprised gasp, but he didn’t fight it. In his daze, he thought for a moment that it even felt good.  _ I should try dating a girl sometime,  _ he pondered.  _ Maybe I’m not as exclusively into guys as I thought.  _ Less than a few seconds in, the kiss was over, but the intensity made it feel like it was much longer. 

 

She got up, giving Al a wink and one last wandering hand down his side as she strutted back up towards the stage, away from the wolf-whistles echoing around the American from the others in the audience.

 

The show continued for at least another few minutes and the others’ attention seemed to move on, but Al was still stuck in that moment. He had forgotten entirely how good an Alpha’s scent felt. The pit of discomfort that had been seated in his stomach for the past few days unraveled just a little— but just enough to make it seem like somewhat of a relief. 

 

By the time the lights gradually fade back on and the music faded out, Francis was prepared with a drink in hand and a smirk on his lips. “My my,  _ Amerique,”  _ he remarked. “It seems as though you have quite the seductive skills even though  _ toi  _ are an Omega.” 

 

“Omegas  _ are  _  the ones with all the seductive skills,” Matthew remarked dryly, stirring his drink idly. 

 

“Ah, seductive skills of just sitting and attracting  _ les  _ Alphas?” The Frenchman grinned. “ _ Impressionnant _ .”

 

Al coughed. “Um… thanks bro?” He tried to sound normal, but he couldn’t get past the friction of a body against his and lips pinning him down. 

 

“Leave him be,” Ludwig sighed, ever the mom friend, even when he was slightly drunk. “Isn’t this normal for a bar?”

 

“Ve~~ very dark and shady!” Feliciano chirped. “I took a good nap!” 

 

Ivan just smiled in response, not taking his eyes off of the American as he chugged more vodka. With all of them past drunk at this point, it was finally time to address the elephant in the room. “Ah, Alfred,” the Russian began. “When did you present?” 

 

The blonde stiffened. “Wh-what?”

 

“You don’t need to pry like that!” Matthew protested, sounding awfully annoyed for his brother, but he went unnoticed as usual. 

 

The American just blubbered. “Uh… I…”

 

Arthur had been suspiciously quiet this whole time, just drinking like it was nobody’s business in his corner of the booth. He slammed down his cup, looking particularity murderous. “What does that have to do with anything?” 

 

Kiku, who had snuggled into the opposite corner away from the action with his light wine, suddenly spoke up, looking concerned. “Arthur-San,” he interjected. “You seem upset.”

 

“Damn right I am,” the Englishman grumbled, taking another large sip of his drink as he lit out a string of curses under his breath. He had been wearing a nice sweater layered on top of a fancy button up, but the sweater was now laying discarded on the seat cushion, his put-together outfit reduced to messily rolled up sleeves and undone buttons paired with messy, spiky hair. Alfred watching him carefully, for once not considered what others might think of his gaze in his drunken state. 

 

_ He’s cute…  _ Al pondered.  _ Haha… like I didn’t know that.  _ He subconsciously compared the dancer to Arthur, watching the grumpy Englishman as he did so.  _ She’s way hotter than him,  _ he considered.  _ And she can sing. And dance.  _ One moment was all it took to recall England’s terrible singing (and music taste, for that matter) and his awkward dance moves that had never quite evolved past stiff ballroom dances.  _ She’s a really good kisser, and probably like male alphas… meanwhile, I’ve never kissed Arthur, and who knows if he even thinks of me like that?  _ The more he thought about it, the more it seemed like the girl was the winner. But somewhere in the back of his mind, he liked Arthur more, even with all the shortcomings. 

 

“What ya staring at me for now, ya twat?” Arthur didn’t even make eye contact with Alfred, instead snapping at him angrily as he took another swig of his drink.

 

“Nothing,” America mumbled, turning away as if burned. 

 

France leaned forward, grabbing a surprised Matthew’s hand. “Would you do me the  _ plaisir  _ of being my  _ partenaire de danse _ ?” he asked, and without waiting for an answer, yanked the younger man out of the booth and towards the wildly flashing lights nearer to the stage where the performance had been, Feliciano grabbing Ludwig with a strange grin and stereotypical declaration as he followed. Kiku cleared his throat, staring at Ivan, Arthur, and Alfred and feeling like he was being left out of something. 

 

The Japanese man tried his best to engage everyone in conversation, but with Arthur’s annoyed grunts, Ivan’s drunk poker face, and Al just laughing awkwardly every now and then, the effort was for naught. 

 

Kiku just eventually gave up on it, instead taking to quietly scrolling through his phone, taking polite sips of the lightest drink offered. 

 

The silence didn’t last for very long. 

 

“Hey there.” Al looked up, surprised when he realized the voice was directed at him. 

 

It was the girl from earlier. “You remember me, don’t you?” she asked, a pretty smile on her face. Most of her makeup had been wiped off, her extensions removed. Despite it all, she was still very pretty. She was now clad in a navy trench coat, blending in to the room to the point that he wouldn’t have noticed her had she not singled him out. 

 

“Yeah,” he managed shakily. 

 

“What’s your name, big guy?” 

 

The American swallowed. “Alfred.” He answered. 

 

“Veronica,” she replied, leaning close, but not in a way that was as overtly sexual as before. “Call me sometime.” That was it. No pretense, no context, no fluff. She slipped him a piece of folded paper with willowy writing across it, spelling out 10 numbers and a heart. She smiled at him broadly as he looked on, dumbfounded. 

 

“Okay,” he replied before he could stop himself. She smiled at him, waving as she walked away. 

 

He turned back to the table, where his largely silent friends had been watching him with their full attention. 

 

“Goddamnit,” Arthur mumbled under his breath, grabbing another glass. More curses spilled out, most more creative than Al had ever witnessed as the Englishman arose shakily, spilling alcohol on the floor and the table as he did so. 

 

“Where’re you going?” Al asked, still feeling shaky on his medication. 

 

“None o’ your business, ya arsebadger,” Arthur hissed, swaying and stumbling. “Little fucktwit.” 

 

The three watched as he made his way out of the room through the back exit, the neon letters flashing in time with the lights overhead. 

 

“Should I go after him?” Kiku asked, still sounding quite sober and worried. 

 

“I’ll do it,” Al said, getting up and steadying himself. “He need help, he’s drunk as hell.” 

 

As the American followed in the Englishman’s path, Kiku couldn’t help but watch his unsteady gait and wonder if Alfred realized how drunk  _ he  _ was. 

* * *

Outside the bar was an alleyway that looked to dingy and dirty to be outside such a nice place. It was lit with stuttering streetlights that reflected a shade of sickening yellow onto the reddish-brownbricks of the sides of the neighboring buildings, moths and mice and broken bottles and trash cans the main residents. 

 

Alfred spotted Arthur leaning his head back on the wall a few paces away. Reaching out for him, Al started, “Hey, Arthur, you oka--” 

 

“Don’t touch me.” The older man flinched away, out of America’s reach. 

 

Al recoiled. Somewhere in the back of his groggy mind, there was a deep hurt that the Englishman’s insults had never managed, but somehow, these simple words had. He swallowed, his throat feeling so much drier than it had earlier. “Arthur--”

 

“ _ Can ya just fuck off already?! _ ” His voice was growing increasingly loud, increasingly grating. He was raking a hand through his hair, looking angry and disheveled and somewhat rabid. 

 

If Al was anyone else, he might have known to leave while he still had the chance. But alas, he was America. America was a hero. America never backed down. “Why the hell can’t you talk like a normal human being?!” he yelled in response. “Why are you acting like you have a stick up your ass?”   
  


Arthur’s toxic green eyes blazed as he lurched forward, smelling of booze. “Why do  _ you  _ have to follow me around and do stuff like this?” he asked, sounding more like he was threatening Al than asking a question. 

 

“What did I  _ do _ ?!” Al was getting angrier as his gut was sinking into an unfamiliar sort of dread. Sure, he had had a lot of arguments with England before, but Arthur had never looked so  _ serious.  _ He hadn’t even cursed in the past five minutes. 

 

“What did you  _ do _ ,” Arthur mocked, dropping his bottle with a clank before reaching down to pick it up again, this time swinging it around like a baseball bat. “You ruined everything, that’s what.” 

 

“Can you start making some _ sense,  _ dude?” America was getting tired of this. He usually didn’t have any patience at all, but the alcohol was making him more sluggish in his reactions and emotions than usual. 

 

“Don’t call me dude,” England groaned, holding a hand to his head as he squatted against the wall. No doubt he was going to have a raging headache from all the drinking and yelling. 

 

_ It’s just the drink,  _ Al told himself as he chuckled awkwardly, none of the usual vigor in it. “I’ll call you dude if I want to,” he replied. “I call all of my friends dude.” 

 

He reached for Arthur, but the older moved away again, this time shoving away his hands. “Go  _ the fuck  _ away, Alfred! We aren’t friends!  _ Get that through your thick head!”  _

 

“What the hell does that mean??” Al lurched back, indignation and betrayal springing his throat.

 

“It means what you think it means!” The Englishman snarled. “Stop following me around and get your own life, Al!  _ I hate you!”  _

 

Al didn’t stay to hear the rest of what Arthur had to say about him. He spun around, yanking open the door at full force so it banged on a trash can next to it. “Fuck you, Arthur!” 

  
And with that, America stormed back in, leaving England huddled in a ball in the alleyway, the buzzing moths over head, string of regret clouding his mind and making his vision cloudy.  _ I fucking hate myself.  _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> How was it? Your feedback really helps me!! Go ahead and leave me a comment or kudos, pretty please? Even if it's criticism, I'll take it. :D Like I said before, I don't think I'll be updating soon, but maybe with some encouragement from readers and a little bit of ~inspiration juices~ that are flowing right now I'll be able to do it. That being said, I have to say that I didn't anticipate the story taking this direction at all. It was going to be a lot more light-hearted and end at around 9ish chapters, but the more I write, the longer this gets. Another reason the next chapter might take a little longer is because this chapter completely veered off of the plotline I had written out. :D Hopefully, this will be more fun to read (and write!).
> 
> Again, LEAVE ME FEEDBACK!!!! Tell me if the characters are OOC too, I haven't read any Hetalia fanfiction in a long time, and I haven't seen the show in even longer. 
> 
> luv ya!!! <3

**Author's Note:**

> Hope it was enjoyable!! Please leave a comment so that I can improve on anything, and also point out any mistakes I might've made.


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